


One Day at a Time

by innusiq



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 08:31:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8005816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/innusiq/pseuds/innusiq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary:  Merlin is single, so that's why he's signed up on this website that organises him dates now and then. He's never really met anyone that's really liked but when he gets set up with this gorgeous and funny Arthur bloke, Merlin knows he could be happy. Thing is, he's also pregnant. As Arthur and him go out on a couple more dates, Merlin knows that he should tell Arthur about his pregnancy, but he's afraid that if Arthur finds out he'll stop being interested.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Day at a Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [andiwould](https://archiveofourown.org/users/andiwould/gifts).



> This was written for a prompt I claimed from the 2014 [merlinmpreg](http://merlinmpreg.livejournal.com) prompt fest I didn't finish in time... and then it got lost... and then I saw they were running another prompt fest this year and I finally pulled this back out and finished it! This is for [andiwould](http://andiwould.livejournal.com/profile) who was the original prompter. I am sooooooo sorry it took so long to finish this, but I hope this fulfills what you were looking for.

The site promised compatible unions. It boasted words of guaranteed happiness, and lifelong, unending love. It spouted unreasonable facts about years of research and qualified experts, _near perfect success rates_ , and linked thousands of testimonial videos from previous users (all of which seem unsurprisingly scripted and never a negative review in sight). It seemed a foolproof answer to anyone’s desire at achieving _perfect_ love and _happily ever after_ romance, but that wasn’t the reason Merlin initially created a profile on England’s most popular dating site (most popular in all the United Kingdom), expecting to find an answer to what he clearly did not have a talent for. It was actually the urging of a few friends (Gwen and Lance, who were happily on their way to a marriage made in heaven at the time) that he decided to look into the site, after another failed series of dates that never really made it to the _relationship_ stage, tired of hearing their concerned worry over his lackluster love life, but that was ten years ago, and still to this day Merlin finds himself, not depressingly but more frustratingly, single.

It isn’t for the lack of potential _matches_ the site has dug up for him over the last decade, or that Merlin has ignored the site’s suggestions, he’s human after all, and isn’t it human to desire that one person who means the world and which he would mean the world to in return? He hasn’t entertained each and every match notification received (he wouldn’t have had a single weekend to himself over the years otherwise), but he’s learned over time, that the site and all its purported one of a kind experts and research, and years of success, and its potential guaranty of happiness, isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. He’s learned, over time, that true happiness, the idea of perfect love and a happily ever after isn’t a guaranty anyone can promise, not that he doesn’t believe there being someone out there for everyone, but he’s come to live in the now, to love the life he’s made and the family and friends he has, and to be happy with what he’s been given and maybe someday, as Gwen has taken to assure will happen, his prince will come.

Between his initial registration with the site and present, there have been three significant meetings provided: Gwaine, Gilli, and Cedric; three very different men Merlin classifies as having been in a relationship with beyond that one and only first meeting date, and all of which were considered a match for him by the site’s _experts_ , but in the end, either ended up becoming his best friend, the perfect little brother and a complete stranger, in that order. 

Gwaine was the first match provided by the site and his longest relationship to date, having lasted three years (one year longer than it should have), but still the most cherished of any of his past relationships, before and after his attachment to the dating site. First things first, Gwaine was _gorgeous_ (still is, not that Merlin is one to care about such superficial things), with long, stylishly unkempt hair, a scratchy and rugged not really full beard but definitely more than a five o’clock shadow, and the muscles. Merlin could write odes about Gwaine’s physique, and maybe he has (he’ll never admit), but for all of Gwaine’s outer qualities, what made him stand out most to Merlin beyond their first date were the man’s hidden virtues. Gwaine’s always the first man to stand up for a friend in any given fight, right or wrong. While the man came from money, could have anything he wanted by the swipe of plastic and dropped name, Gwaine refused to get by on his family’s coattails. Gwaine never looked down on anyone, giving everyone the benefit of the doubt, but if anyone ever crossed him, he wasn’t likely to forgive and forget easily. Gwaine’s always been a man of his word, and he always made Merlin feel safe.

Merlin loved Gwaine, still loves Gwaine to this day, but it never was that mad sort of love where every day felt like the first and yet continued to grow with each passing minute. His love for Gwaine began more like a constant thing, a warmth that had settled within his chest like coming home, and he simply got used to it, depended upon it, and Gwaine wasn’t one to easily push anyone away. In the beginning, like any new beginning, everything felt new and exciting. Merlin enjoyed the attention, having that one person who wasn’t going to be distracted by anyone else like his friends were by their own significant others, and he very much enjoyed the sex (God, the sex was great), but after that first year, all that _honeymoon excitement_ fizzled more to a burning comfort that simply filled a void in Merlin he’d been nursing since before Gwaine entered his life. By the time their second anniversary rolled around, not that Gwaine celebrated such milestones, ( _oh no_ ), he and Gwaine fell into the denial stage of really only being _friends with benefits_. It wasn’t until Merlin walked into their local pub one night and found Gwaine chatting up some blonde bird at the corner of the bar that Merlin realized what they’d both been avoiding.

“You breaking up with me?” Gwaine had accused later that night, back at their shared flat, surprisingly looking as if the world had been pulled from under foot.

Merlin felt a pain pulsing somewhere in the middle of his chest, almost like heartbreak, and knowing it was the right thing to do at the time, logically he knew that wasn’t it. He knew his heart wasn’t breaking, but he also knew the potential of losing the one person who had become his best friend over the past three years was great, and it scared the shit out of him.

“Gwaine…”

“No Merlin, I’m not just gonna let you drop this and accept my licks and move on. What the hell? Why? Why now? What…”

“I _saw_ you,” Merlin interrupted, not shouting, but stating the words plain as day, like discussing the weather, or the train schedules, or what he wanted for lunch. “I saw you tonight, at the pub, with the blonde.”

And that statement alone shut Gwaine’s protests down, a look of embarrassment, or guilt, or perhaps it’s the same feeling of heartbreak settling over his friend, that this moment could make or break them in the end, and Gwaine was scared too.

Merlin sighed in the silence before taking a few steps closer, watching Gwaine’s eyes widen as his friend took one step back, keeping a slight distance and that alone stopped Merlin in his tracks, because he knew Gwaine and right then Gwaine was thinking he’d let Merlin down, stomped on an injured puppy, and didn’t deserve any of the forgiveness that, while Merlin wasn’t really ready to offer just yet, he knew in the end he would bestow given time.

“Listen,” Merlin began again, resignation in his voice. “I know you’re not daft, neither of us are, and I’m not saying you were in the right, because I think I deserve a bit better than walking in on you with someone else no matter how innocent it was, but we both know this,” and Merlin paused to motion between them adding, “isn’t what it once was.”

Gwaine’s eyes find the floor quickly, head shaking in agreement but not ready to admit to anything, not ready to let go even when they both knew they should.

“I do love you,” Merlin stated then, taking another step closer, hands grasping at Gwaine’s biceps. “You’re my best friend, I will always love you, but us… we…”

Gwaine silenced him with an unexpected kiss, not a goodbye kiss, nor a kiss that was pleading for Merlin to change his mind, but there was restrained desperation, one that Merlin returned because he needed Gwaine in his life, this one person whom he would listen to when he’s being an idiot and ignoring everyone else. The one person who will always sit and drink into oblivion with him when his next relationship inevitably ends in tears and frustration and strings of _I knew better_ and _I told you so_. Gwaine kissed him like it was the first time all over again, with promises of more, when really it would be their last, and Merlin can’t help thinking it was a perfect ending to what they had once shared.

Merlin moved out of Gwaine’s apartment by the end of the following week, moving back into the space above the bookshop his uncle Gaius (not really a blood uncle, but a man as close to family as anyone could get) owned at the time with intensions to pass-on the business to Merlin _when the time is right_ , in which Merlin also worked. He maintained a bit of distance from Gwaine for a time after, allowing himself to settle into a new routine as such, getting used to being _alone_ again, and focused on the bookshop renovations Gaius stated that were long overdue, but Merlin knew were really going to end up being a parting gift before his uncle’s retirement (the sneaky bastard).

It was three month later, on a warm, October day, when Gwaine showed up at Albion Books with a sheepish and unsure grin, stating, “I miss my friend,” that Merlin finally admits he’d forgiven his friend, offering a teary-eyed hug and receiving a friendly peck on the cheek. It’s a slow restart for them, but Merlin preferred a slower new beginning than letting anything get too out of hand again. There were still lines that needed to be marked, and feelings needing talked through, and acceptance over Gwaine having started seeing the woman (Elena) Merlin had caught him chatting up at the bar that fateful night, but they did make it through, and it was with a light heart that Merlin officially met Elena six months after his separation from Gwaine. Beautiful, bumbling, boisterous, _lovely_ , Elena, and when he saw the way Gwaine looked at her, the way his friend watched after her when she was more than an arm’s length away, with a gaze and smile Merlin, in all the time he’d been with Gwaine, had never seen directed at him, he realized then everything really had worked out for the best. At first, he’d been a bit jealous, not over the fact Gwaine had never loved him as much, but more that Gwaine (or anyone for that matter) had never really loved him in that _way_ , all encompassing, never and ever changing, where every little thing about a person is just another new thing to love, whether it’s an annoying habit of nail biting, or the riotous sound of the other’s laughter that drew far more attention than one liked. It was something Merlin would like to share with someone, someday, if the right person happened to want that back from him.

One month after meeting Elena, Merlin gave in again and allowed himself to check the site, and of the 25 matches (he’s always amazed by the number of _matches_ a perfected matchmaking site can come up with when supposedly there’s only supposed to be _the one_ out there) he chooses a man named Gilli. Gilli was younger than Merlin, by about three years, but they had a lot in common from favorite authors, to movie genres they preferred and the programming they sacked on the couch to watch. The only problem with Gilli was that perhaps they were _too_ much of a match on one level, yet completely different on another. Gilli had a fire about him, a need to prove himself not only to the people around him but the world in general. If there was a cause to stand up for, Gilli was the first in line to volunteer, to stand on the front lines (so to speak), and Merlin was always there to patch him up when the battles became a bit too heated. It was six months after their first date that they kissed for the first time (a bit slower progress than Merlin’s liking, but after Gwaine, he had been a bit gun-shy in allowing anything to get too out of hand too quickly) and it was the last time Gilli and Merlin ever kissed, because it just didn’t feel right. Too much like kissing a brother than a lover, if Merlin was being honest, and they mutually decided that _friendship_ was the limit to what they could be.

Merlin is still the person Gilli runs to when his bravado gets bigger than his muscle, and there have been more than one, two, three occasions where Merlin’s been called to bail his friend out, or come retrieve him from hospital. Merlin always answers the call to this day, because he kind of likes being in the _older brother_ role for a change, and can sympathize with Gilli being an only child as well, needing that one person who will always understand and have his back, even if Merlin doesn’t always agree, and still not judge Gilli for decisions made. 

After Gilli, there was Cedric. Merlin doesn’t like talking about Cedric all that much, and he’s thankful to his friends for allowing him to forget as much as he can of the overbearing, demanding and controlling man. No matter how good looking the man really was on the outside, unlike Gwaine, Cedric was the complete opposite on the inside. How they’re relationship lasted even longer than his and Gilli’s, Merlin can only blame on reaching the age of thirty-three and having a mild panic attack over the fact that all his close friends were either getting married or expecting children, Gwen and Lance expecting their second child, and surprisingly, Gwaine and Elena setting the date that would take his best friend _off the market_. It was that itch to just _find someone_ that took hold something fierce. His relationship with Cedric was ugly, and dark, verging on abusive at times (much to Merlin’s reluctance to admit), that it only took one incident ending with a sprained wrist and an intervention from his friends for Merlin to break Cedric’s hold.

The break with Cedric happened a little over three years ago, was rather anticlimactic in that there was nothing really for Merlin to get over than his own wounded pride, and became the catalyst to where Merlin finds himself today. He’s thirty-five years old, the apple of his mother’s eye, the sole-owner of his own bookshop (thanks to his uncle Gaius, who still to this day shows up at the bookshop each and every day), still very much single, but for a change, making a life for himself, _by_ himself.

“Would you stop fidgeting, _Sweetheart_ ” Gwaine grits out next to him, hand settling on Merlin’s arm, which is subsequently resting against his jittering knee. “You’re making _me_ nervous.”

Merlin’s eyes shift from their position staring at his clenched hands up to Gwaine, offering a thankful and nervous smile. “Thanks for being here.”

“And pray tell, where else would I be,” Gwaine’s response earns a few, albeit very quiet (and quite unnecessary), coos from the women in the room, which Merlin hears all the same and makes him feel itchy, but he doesn’t get a chance to respond before being the next person is called back.

Gwaine is the first to rise, hand coming up under Merlin’s arm and pulling him up as well, and all at once Merlin feels sick. 

“Come on, let’s go make a baby.” The leering look and wiggling brow does little to sooth Merlin’s nerves, but he stands and follows all the same.

Merlin doesn’t understand why he’s reacting this way, it’s not like this is his first insemination appointment, and history foretelling his future, it probably won’t be his last either. Still, it’s with wobbly knees and a nauseous stomach that he enters the exam room with the hopes of maybe, _just maybe_ , this will be the last time, that maybe this time it will work, and instead of scheduling his next insemination appointment in a few weeks when another negative test result is received, he’ll be scheduling his first prenatal visit, but he’s not holding his breath.

It isn’t until he feels the buttons of his shirt being undone that Merlin comes back to himself, hands settling on Gwaine’s to stop his friend’s movements. He just needs a moment.

“Alright there, Merlin?”

Merlin’s laugh is watery, but he doesn’t cry. “Yeah, just, nervous, ya know?”

“Yeah,” Gwaine returns, aiming for humor in imitating Merlin. “I know. I do have my own pregnant wife at home, and seriously, what in the godforsaken world made her think I would make a good father?”

Merlin offers a smile, laughs even, and in that moment, for at least a second, he feels a bit calmer. “ _You_ are gonna be a great father.”

“You really think?” 

While Gwaine, being his best friend, had been the first to offer assistance (Gwaine’s words being more, _I could lend you a hand, if you know what I mean_ ), it wasn’t that Merlin ever doubted Gwaine would be a great Dad. Truth is, Merlin didn’t want to be _that person_ who takes away that one special moment his friend would share with Eleana. It was weird hearing Gwaine of all people question himself, his ability of being a great father, because there is no doubt in Merlin’s mind how great Gwaine would be, but even Merlin, one hundred percent certain in his own decision to have a baby all by himself, still has days where he questions his own abilities to be a great father, no matter what is own mother assures him otherwise. 

“Yeah, I do,” Merlin states, continuing the process of undressing in preparation for the procedure. “You don’t need to be perfect, you just need to be you, everything else… well, it will just fall into place.”

Gwaine whistles. “Wow, great words of wisdom there kiddo, what book you steal them from?”

Merlin pulls on a very unflattering grey-green hospital gown before dropping his trousers and drawers, and responds, “No book, just my mum.”

“God, I always knew I loved that woman for a reason,” Gwaine states, folding Merlin’s discarded clothes. “Ever think of listening to your own mother’s advice?”

“Sometimes,” Merlin admits sheepishly. “But she’s biased, really, isn’t she? So sometimes…”

Gwaine grabs Merlin by the shoulders and gives him a bit of a shake. “You are gonna be a _great_ dad too, ya know?”

And maybe, for the first time since he began this whole process a year ago, Merlin believes. He has just enough time to nod before the exam room door opens and the nurse pulls in a wheelchair to take him away to the procedure room.

“You’ll be here when I get back?”

Gwaine leans in, kisses Merlin by the ear, and murmurs, “Where else would I be?”

++++++

It’s been three weeks since his last insemination appointment, and still another week before his next doctor’s visit where they will run the scheduled pregnancy test, when Merlin begins getting anxious. This is the thrid waiting game he’s played with his body, and if he’s being honest with himself, no matter how much Merlin wants to be a father, this is the first he’s beginning to think there is a reason he hasn’t gotten pregnant over the last year. This is the first he’s actually started thinking about not scheduling that next appointment if this next test turns up negative yet again. Merlin doesn’t feel any different than he did prior to the procedure, expecting that if he were pregnant, nauseousness would have surely set in by now per the doctor’s own words stating _pregnancy symptoms will be more pronounced in men_ , but still not a single smell or taste turns his stomach, and he’s had more energy than ever, which has lead Merlin to assume the worst, or perhaps it’s for the best.

“Maybe you should check that site out again,” Lance suggests to Merlin, who is sprawled across Gwen and Lance’s couch, not so much forlorn, but resigned and maybe (just maybe) slightly depressed, realizing it isn’t just dating he doesn’t seem to have a knack for. “Even if for one night’s distraction.”

“I’ve given up on that site….”

“You’ve said that before…”

“I mean it this time,” Merlin most certainly does not whine. “What’s really the point? Allowing someone, a group of someones, who don’t really know me aside from the information I’ve provided, to match me up with another someone they don’t know either other than the information they’ve provided? I don’t even know why I agreed to sign up on that site in the first place. It’s brought me nothing but…”

“It brought you Gwaine…”

Merlin sighs heavily, sitting up from his prone position, acknowledging the point made, and pushing to his feet. “Yes, it brought me Gwaine, but maybe that’s all it was ever meant to do. Maybe I’m supposed to be, forever, alone. Maybe this is my lot in life, to be the owner of a mediocre bookstore, a great friend to all those around me, and nothing more than that. I’ll be the unofficial Uncle to everyone else’s children. It’s not such a horrible life, is it?”

“Merlin, you can’t seriously believe that,” Lance insists, hand resting on Merlin’s shoulder. 

“Perhaps, perhaps not, but I’m tired of trying so hard,” Merlin admits, looking into his friend’s eyes, searching for understanding, but only seeing unchecked pity.

He leaves then, much to Lance’s dismay and Gwen’s worried gaze as she passes on her way in, one arm full of a sleeping toddler and her other hand slipping free of her first born as he races past them both into their home. He had thought the last thing he wanted was to be alone, but now, skin prickly and mind unsettled, all he wants is the solitude of his own home. So, Merlin walks his way back to his flat above the bookstore, choosing to bypass using the underground, needing to breathe and think about what he wants to do next, what he wants to make of his life now that it seems so far out of his hands. He totally blames all his friends when he finds himself sitting on his couch, laptop whirling to life on his knees, and the first thing he does is bring up that damned dating site, because really, what’s the worst that could happen?

_You have one match waiting to be met: Arthur P._

++++++

If there is one thing in life Merlin has ever been good at, it’s interacting with people. Whether it be classmates, teachers or professors, employers or fellow employees, he had a certain knack (so Gwen claims) of being able to get along with anyone, even those others deemed less desirable and tended to give a wide berth to. It isn’t something he’s strived for, or even learned (or at least wasn’t aware of learning), but came natural, probably something to do with his mother who was always lending a hand to anyone needing help, and always offering a smile to anyone she thought needed one. He hears her words clear as day, _Don’t just turn the other cheek, but offer a hand, a smile, be an example and you might be surprised what you get in return_. So generally, Merlin isn’t a nervous person when meeting someone new, whether it be as a casual acquaintance or a date set up by some matchmaking service, which is why he doesn’t quite understand his sweaty hands, or the bounce of his knee as he finds himself waiting at the bar of their designated date location.

“Can I get you something?” The barkeep asks, wiping up the area of the bar in front of Merlin and offering a kind smile. “A pint? Something stronger? A back exit?”

“Wh-What?” Merlin stutters, wiping his palms over his knees again, and meeting the burly, ginger man’s eyes in confused surprise.

“Blind date?”

“How…”

“Look Pal, I’ve worked here ten years, and can recognize the look of a man facing the unknown. Say the word, I’ll cause a distraction and you can tuck out the back before your date has a clue.”

“No, it’s not… I’m not nervous,” Merlin denies, because really, he isn’t nervous, he shouldn’t be nervous, this is ridiculous, but the wet palms and fluttery stomach are reminders of a truth he’s ignoring. “I’m not.”

“Whatever, Mate, can I get you a pint then?”

Merlin has to clear his throat and swallow hard before placing his order. “Water please.”

He ignores the wide, startled eyes of the barkeep, apparently no one in this establishment ever orders water, and looks towards the door at the exact moment an unnamed, very fit, blonde _god_ of a bloke walks in. His stomach flutters turn into full-out summersaults, mouth drying up at the sight of the other man, and he hopelessly wishes (prays) for more than a second, this guy is his _Arthur P._ , then again, his life never really pans out the way he wants it to (case in point, what has lead him here), and yet while the guy seems to know a few people gathered, throwing out a nod here and a polite wave there, he doesn’t join any of the other patrons, but rather continues making his way toward the bar. Merlin sits up straight when the guy meets his gawk, and quickly spins around his seat, meeting the barkeeps smirk.

“Sure you don’t want that pint,” Merlin’s asked again, after his previous ordered water is set in front of him.

Merlin doesn’t respond, just takes a long drink that isn’t strong enough to get him through the humiliation that is sure to follow. The one thing he always did like about the matchmaking site is that it doesn’t rely on looks for the users to make decisions after they’ve been provided their possible matches. Granted, there is no keeping the users from getting around that, but Merlin has always liked the idea of matches being made without preconceptions of the other person by looks alone. Much like the books he loves, there is just something about a match being made beyond the cover presented. Funny how the one thing he’s always appreciated about the site seems to be the one thing freaking him out now. No, it’s not that site, Merlin corrects as the nameless, _beautiful_ , blonde man takes a seat next to him, it’s himself, because there is no way, _no way_ , he is in any league close to the Adonis perched next to him.

“A pint of whatever’s on tap,” Merlin hears from his right, and ignores the slight tremor in his hand setting his empty tumbler of water on the bar top. Merlin is just wiping his clammy hand against his thigh (again) when the guy adds, “And another of whatever he’s having.”

The barkeep snorts, and Merlin is pretty sure he hears a muttered _cheap date_ under breath which he ignores. 

“The name’s Arthur, and I truly hope you are M. Emrys, otherwise I’m in serious trouble.”

Merlin again ignores the barkeep’s snort and whispered _smooth_ as their drinks are provided and focuses on the man next to him, _his_ Arthur P., but not really _his_ , because there is no way, _no way_ , this night is ending in Merlin’s favor.

“Why in trouble?” He asks, neither confirming nor denying as he takes another drink (actually gulp) of water.

“Well, seeing as I’m supposed to meet _the match of my dreams_ , commercial jargon spouted by a matchmaking site mind you, it would be a shame he is not you, as either I am going to be kicking myself by being a gentleman and not standing this _unknown man_ up and letting you out of my site, or I’ll be _that guy_ standing up some unknown, unsuspecting person who doesn’t deserve it all because I simply can’t walk away from you,” _Arthur_ explains, stopping to take a moment and a pull of his pint, before adding, “So which is it?”

“Wow, you seem a rather confident chap,” Merlin returns, downing the rest of his water and motioning for another, much to the barkeep’s amusement.

“Hardly,” Arthur disagrees, setting the pint down, and digging for a wallet. “I’d say hopeful. Honestly, I don’t get out much, demands of being the head of a family business that has been a staple for generations, and tonight is me appeasing my meddling, annoying, love-her-to-death sister’s need to _see me happy_. I don’t see anyone else here looking about as nervous as I feel, so basic observations tell me you’re my blind date, and for once, I’m hoping my assumption to be spot on.”

Arthur lays more than enough notes on the bar to cover his pint and Merlin’s _waters_ , then turns to Merlin, waiting a response.

“Must be you’re lucky day,” Merlin finally states, meeting Arthur’s eyes. “I’m supposed to be meeting an _Arthur P._ , so assuming there won’t be two Arthurs walking into this pub looking for a blind date answering to _M. Emrys_ , my judgment is you being a gentleman this evening.”

When Arthur laughs, it’s loud, with his head thrown back, causing Merlin’s heart to thump in his chest, and dear God he thinks he might be a bit smitten already. It’s one of the downfalls Merlin’s been warned about time and again, his ability to fall fast and fall hard. _Love at First Sight_ , he’s suffered at its hands time and again, and yet flourished all the same, and this, today, Merlin just knows is going to be no exception, especially when Arthur grins, taking his pint in hand and Merlin’s own refreshed water. “Want to grab a table then?”

“After you,” Merlin directs, gesturing Arthur on in order to follow. 

Surprisingly they locate an unoccupied, corner table, away from the more rowdier patrons, and Arthur gestures Merlin to sit first before he places their drinks on the table.

“While I may appreciate your efforts at being a gentleman, please remember I too am a so called _gentleman_ and don’t expect you to be holding any doors open, or ordering for me. I went out with someone like that, while in Sixth Form, and there’s a reason that didn’t last more than a week.”

Arthur laughs again, after settling their drinks and taking the seat next to Merlin rather than across, which Merlin ticks as a point in Arthur’s favor, or his own doom.

“Duly noted: no door holding, chair pulling, and definitely no flowers…”

“Well now… I didn’t say _that_ exactly,” Merlin teases, taking another drink of water. “I do like Tulips.”

Arthur laughs loudly again, hands holding his stomach, which for some reason pleases Merlin. If he could make Arthur laugh all night like this, he will at the least count the evening a success, even if nothing further ever becomes of it. This is exactly the distraction he needs at the moment.

“You are… there is something about you,” Arthur muses, laughter settling as his eyes fix with Merlin’s. “So, are you ever going to tell me your name?”

“I don’t know, you seem to be doing a right fine job figuring everything else out, why not give that a go too,” Merlin challenges, because he can be a little shit, Gwaine has said so on many occasions, even at the age thirty-five. 

“Alright, I’ll bite,” Arthur accepts, taking another pull of his pint and giving Merlin more of a once over appraising look. “Well, you definitely don’t look like a Matthew… Or Michael… Marcus or Mark? Nah, to plain, and _you_ are far from plain…”

Merlin blushes at the compliment, God he hopes that’s a compliment, and hides his smile with his glass.

“Hmmm… Please tell me you’re name's not Mordred,” Arthur pleads, sounding a slight bit ill at the prospect.

“What’s wrong with Mordred…” Merlin challenges, and then continues, his mouth running off as it likes. “I think it a fine, well, I’d say noble, but history really dictates it more tragic than anything else. He did get the wrong end of the sword so to speak, everyone did…”

Arthur stares at Merlin, eyes wide and disbelieving, and pint long forgotten. The attention makes Merlin fidget a bit in his seat, wondering just where he steered the night wrong.

“What? Did I say something…”

The blonde man shakes his head, the corners of his mouth turning up, before Arthur full out smiles, like there’s a secret he knows and might not share, but then the smile softens, turns almost _endearing_ as Arthur says, “ _Merlin_.”

Merlin tips his glass of water toward Arthur, an almost salute, confirming, “Merlin.”

It’s the most ridiculous, wonderful, perfect first date Merlin’s ever had. Arthur is cheeky, and honest (almost to a fault), and can come off as a number one _Prat_ , but he gets Merlin’s humor, and listens to Merlin rattle on about his bookshop, and doesn’t seem to be put-off by Merlin’s ears (actually not making one comment on them as is normally the case with others). Arthur likes footie (though admits not being able to enjoy the sport as he used to), spoiling his nephew (named _Mordred_ and thus Arthur’s aversion to the name earlier), and sleeping in on Sundays (because it’s the only day he refuses to wake before the ass-crack of dawn). And, as it turns out, they’d both been students of Arthurian Legend while at University.

“You should stop by the bookshop sometime,” Merlin suggests as they are making their way from the pub to the closest underground station, Arthur living up to the title of gentleman for the night and walking Merlin there even though his car is parked around the corner in the opposite direction. “Not to boast or anything, I’ve got the best offering in books on Arthurian Legend… not that many appreciate it as much. It seems the less popular section of the store, at least for book purchases. You wouldn’t believe the number of randy university students I’ve chased out the stacks.”

Arthur guffaws, and really, Merlin can’t help but join in. Sadly, as they approach the underground station, Merlin wishes the night wasn’t ending quite so soon, and yet he’s thankful all the same. _Best not get too attached_ , he thinks, knowing full well it’s already too late to be wishing. They part with a kiss on the cheek (Arthur to Merlin’s), a promise of, “See you around” from Arthur, and Merlin is fully convinced this will be the last he sees of _Arthur Pendragon_.

¬¬++++++

Merlin’s head is buried under the checkout, searching for his errant pencil someone always seems to be walking off with.

“Who uses pencils anymore, and why do they always want mine,” Merlin mutters to himself, search turning up futile as the bells hanging on the door announce another customer, who at least won’t be walking off with his pencil this time, seeing as _he_ can’t even find it. “With you in a tick.”

There’s a hum of acknowledgement, but otherwise whoever’s arrived is quiet, and after checking the far corner of the shelves beneath the till and still coming up empty, Merlin rights himself, plastering on a bright smile, and comes face to face with one Arthur Pendragon, leaning against the counter and smirking back.

“Oh! Hello,” Merlin startles and greets, hands pressing down against the counter to hide their shaking. “What are you doing here?”

Arthur straightens from his lean against the counter, shoving his hand into his well tailored trouser pockets, all part of an equally well tailored suit (an amazing blue-grey making Arthur’s eyes stand out even more piercingly than on their own) that probably cost more than his shop brings in a month, possibly quarter, and again wonders what the hell the man, who is so far out of Merlin’s league, is doing in his shop, and what game he may be playing at.

“Well now, you see _someone_ mentioned _something_ about this place having the best selection known to man on Arthurian Legend and suggested I check it out, so here I am,” Arthur teasingly replies, pushing up onto his toes before rocking back onto his heels, a twinkle in his eye begging Merlin to play along.

“ _Someone_?”

“Oh yes, _someone_ , you might know him. Slight bit taller than myself, dark messy hair that I’m certain he never really styles, it’s just _naturally_ there, and quite a unique taste in attire,” Arthur lists, ticking off items describing Merlin, down to hinting at his purple plaid shirt, worn over a blue and green striped long-sleeved T-shirt and all covered by an orange cardigan his mother knitted him five years ago that he keeps around the shop because it gets cold sometimes and thus generally never matches anything he wears.

“He wouldn’t happen to be the owner of unfortunate Prince Charles ears too,” Merlin inquires, taking the steps needed to come round the counter, and adding to the descriptive of himself, because they might as well get that out of the way now before he ends up too deep. “He sounds a right mess.”

Arthur’s mouth quirks up, eyes squinting as he cocks his head to the side giving Merlin an appraising onceover before stating, “I don’t know about the unfortunate part, but I do find the ears a bit… _endearing_.”

Merlin snorts and ducks his head, not believing a word, but blushes a bit just the same. He needs to clear his throat before continuing.

“So… Arthurian Legend?”

Arthur shrugs. “What can I say, it’s an interest I have yet to shake from Uni.”

Merlin can’t help smiling at the admission, leaning forward and adding conspiratorially, “Me either.”

Motioning for Arthur to follow, Merlin leads the way to his pride and joy section located in a back corner of the shop. It doesn’t hold every book in print, but his shop is usually known as the _go to_ destination for any student on the subject matter. Once there, Merlin can’t stop himself gushing over this author’s tackle of the legendary King and Sorcerer, or pulling out a book here and there, barely hiding his own excitement, suggesting if Arthur _hasn’t read this one yet, you must put it on the top of the next to read list_. Ten minutes pass before Merlin realizes he’s been rambling on (Gwaine would say _geeking out_ ), and it’s not until he catches Arthur’s amused expression that he stutters to an embarrassed stop.

“Sorry, my mouth likes to run away sometimes...” 

“Hmmm,” Arthur hums, shelving one of the books Merlin’s handed off at some point, taking a step into Merlin’s personal space. “I’ve got to admit, I’m quite fond of it.”

Merlin swallows. “M-My selection?”

“That too,” Arthur concedes, taking another step closer. “But I was speaking more along the lines of your mouth.”

They share their first, _official_ , kiss hidden away in the stacks on Arthurian Legend, much to Merlin’s pleased surprise, and its also where Merlin eventually locates his errant pencil when Arthur’s hand buries in his hair and dislodges it from its perch behind one of Merlin’s prominent ears.

++++++

Merlin is a regular at _Perk Me Up_ , each and every barista (granted there are only four, including the owner) knowing his coffee order before the door closes behind him, but it’s his pastry order that’s never the same twice. Gwaine likes to tease it’s because he likes being difficult, but truth be told, everything in their cases is good (there isn’t an item he hasn’t tried since he started coming here ten years ago), and he relishes the days when something new pops up (gets overly excited, giddy Gwen would correct, when the various _holiday specials_ come round too). Right now, he’s attempting a decision between the Pumpkin Chocolate Chip scone, or an Espresso Bean Cheesecake Brownie, but then there is the Lemon Berry Bonanza that has always been a favorite, and the Strawberry tart.

“Made a decision yet,” Elyan, owner and brother of his friend Gwen, asks teasingly from the counter. “Might want to hurry before your coffee cools.”

“It’s too _hard_ ,” Merlin whines from his stooped position, ogling the sweets case. “It’s not fair.”

Elyan laughs. “Could just get one of everything.”

Merlin’s stomach grumbles at the prospect. “Don’t tempt me. For some reason, all I want to eat today is sugar.”

Elyan laughs again, shaking his head thoroughly amused by Merlin’s indecisive dilemma, clearly not understanding. “Don’t know where you put it all, you’re like a stick.”

“You’re just jealous,” Merlin accuses, sticking his tongue out pettily as he stands ready to give his order.

“I’ll take the Lemon Berry Bonanza,” Merlin requests, eyes straying back down to the case in front of him, ignoring Elyan’s raised eyebrow clearly asking, _and what else_ , before adding (ignoring Elyan’s smirk too), “and the Pumpkin Chocolate Chip scone.”

Elyan snorts his amusement, pulling the chosen pastries out the case and setting them on a plate. “Anything else.”

Merlin’s petulant retort is cut off by the customer in line behind him speaking in a familiar voice, “Can you add a Strawberry tart to that order… and maybe one of those Espresso Bean Brownie monstrosities, and coffee, black.”

“Arthur?” Merlin states in obvious surprise, but the corner of his mouth curls up, and the flutters begin anew in his stomach against his better judgment.

“Merlin,” Arthur returns, stepping around to the counter and preceding to pull out a twenty pound note covering their order of goods, and once their drinks have been prepared, both arrange to transport their plates of goodies and mugs of drinks, adding, “Shall we?” 

They settle for the table by the window, the sun catching in the strands of Arthur’s blonde hair, flecks of gold popping in the rays and Merlin really, really, _really_ wishes for a moment that he’d skipped his afternoon sweet tooth craving.

“Wouldn’t have taken you for a sweets kind of guy,” Merlin comments, taking a sip of his too hot latte and cursing silently as he burns his mouth.

“Honestly, before, I never really was,” Arthur says, being the smarter of them and blowing on his own hot drink before taking a tentative sip. “But then you’re pretty sweet, and I have to admit, I’m a bit taken by you so…”

Merlin nearly sputters his next sip, choking down on the swallow and blushes fiercely, Arthur chuckling across from him, and Elyan whistling in the background.

“You can’t say things like that,” Merlin’s retort is horse as he continues attempts at clearing his throat.

“Why not?” Arthur asks, taking a bite of his Strawberry tart and humming in pleasure. “Mmmm, this is good, you should try it.”

Arthur is holding the tart out, offering Merlin a taste, and honestly, Merlin doesn’t know what to do with that. Honestly, this isn’t supposed to be happening. This was never part of the plan beyond their first date, and while yesterday at the bookstore was unexpected and beyond amazing, he’s still waiting to wake up from this crazy dream where one of the richest, most eligible bachelors in all of London is seriously interested in _him_.

“Thanks, but I already know how amazing it is,” Merlin returns, adding, “Actually, everything here is amazing. I’ve been coming here for years, it’s a serious problem I have no plans of ever ridding myself of.”

Arthur shrugs and takes another bite, making more noises of unbridled pleasure that cause Merlin to squirm uncomfortably in his own seat. Pursing his lips, Merlin digs into his own sweet, the Lemon Berry Bonanza first, preferring to save the _best for last_ of his options, and ends up making the same noises of pleased joy from the zing of sour-sweet lemon on his palate.

“Dear God, please just kill me now and bury me here,” Merlin moans, quickly taking another bite.

Across the table Arthur laughs, chasing his tart with coffee, and smiling in open contentment. Merlin would like to say it’s unsettling, being watched as such, but there is also something he’s always enjoyed about being the focus of someone’s attention like that. Not that Merlin’s one striving to always be the center of attention in a room full of people, but to know that he isn’t the only one who zeros down to tunnel vision with the person he’s interested in, it’s centering, grounding, _nice_ knowing he’s worth the same attention.

“Obviously you come here a lot,” Arthur observes. “I find that remarkable. I come round here every day, and yet it took a rubbish dating site for us to meet. We could have been enjoying coffee and pastries rather than wasting all that time.”

“I don’t know,” Merlin muses, taking a healthy gulp of his now cooler latte. “I might have needed all that time to appreciate the man behind the _prat_.”

Arthur laughs heartily, much to the groan Merlin can hear Elyan try to cover (no one ever said Merlin was the most tactful person) overhearing Merlin’s less than gentleman manners, but it’s not Elyan he is trying to impress, and it’s not Arthur either really. If there is one thing Merlin is certain of, it’s that he refuses to be something _someone else_ expects him to be, no matter how gorgeous, or rich, or great in bed they are. If he can’t be loved for who he already is, then the person isn’t worth it, and he doesn’t expect anyone to jump through hoops for him either. 

They each end up sharing their second treat, but Merlin isn’t oblivious to the fact it seems Arthur purchased his more for Merlin to begin with because by Merlin’s calculations, he’s eaten three quarters of the pastries, if one were keeping track, and Arthur has just been happily watching while drinking his second cup of coffee.

“You are a horrible influence,” Merlin accuses, rubbing his stomach, and thinking of the sugar crash he is sure to suffer later in the afternoon. “What’s going to happen when I lose my girlish figure?”

Arthur grins. “I’d like to be around when that happens.”

Merlin does not giggle (much to Arthur’s teasing), but once they finish their afternoon treats, Arthur ends up following Merlin back to the bookshop, where they both finish out the day.

“Don’t you have a company to run?” 

“It’s called delegation _Merlin_ , and anyway, I’m the CEO, if I choose to _work outside the office_ for the afternoon, I have the right and authority to make that decision,” Arthur replies while perusing the various titles within the Science Fiction section.

“And exactly what are you working on?”

Arthur looks up from the book in his hand, meeting Merlin’s eyes and replies seriously, “Something _very_ important.”

Merlin doesn’t press the issue further, and Arthur stays the afternoon, even taking over the till as the expected sugar low hits Merlin hard, and when it’s time to close shop, Arthur is still there, looking hesitant.

“I should go…”

“Do you want to come up?”

They speak over each other, laugh, and then Arthur gestures for Merlin to repeat.

“Do you want to come up? To my flat, it’s upstairs,” Merlin asks again, pointing towards the ceiling. “I could make dinner…”

Despite Arthur’s previous words, there’s no hesitation in accepting the invite, and Merlin can’t help grinning and blushing the entire climb upstairs. On one hand he knows things are moving a bit too fast, given his current state in life, but on the other he’s willing to take a leap of faith if it gets him one more moment with Arthur.

++++++

There is one thing every person who’s ever spent the night with Merlin becomes accustomed to, and that is the fact Merlin isn’t really a morning person. It’s not that he can’t function in the early hours or isn’t hospitable until he’s had a certain amount of caffeine, but if given the choice between dragging himself out of bed, or curling into a ball of Merlin and bed linens and pillows, well, the cocoon of thick layered cotton and warmth would win out each and every time. So, the fact he finds himself awake before any alarm is scheduled to go off, is a bit unsettling, and even more unsettling is the fact that _this_ morning he seems to find himself _alone_ in bed, which while has been the norm as of late, isn’t really what he expected. 

Rolling over, Merlin chances a glance at the alarm clock and groans seeing bright green numbers reflecting the ungodly hour of 5:30 AM, and darkly wonders when exactly Arthur chose to leave as he rolls back over pulling the covers around him, the feeling of lead settling in his stomach. Was it ten minutes after he’d been assured Merlin was asleep? Did he just miss the other man, sneaking around the room and redressing in yesterday’s clothes? Was everything he thought happened last night some dreamed up alternate reality? It isn’t common for Merlin to throw caution to the wind when it comes to sleeping with people. He and Gwaine dated a little over a month before moving beyond heavy make-out sessions on the couch and even that first time they didn’t make it out their pants. Cedric, Merlin still prefers not remembering anything about that period in his life, but he does know he probably didn’t wait long enough, and the few other men he’s been with, he definitely knew longer than three days before jumping into the sack with them, but Arthur, there was just something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, like he’s known the other man forever, which is really ridiculous when it took a dating site for either of them to meet in the first place.

Merlin sighs deeply, pulling the covers up over his head and tries desperately to not think about what it means that Arthur would leave without even waking him or saying goodbye. It’s not as if something like this hasn’t happened before, someone getting what they wanted out of Merlin and quickly moving on, but he was in his early twenties the last time he’d been used like that, and now being in his mid-thirties, Merlin thought (hoped) he’d risen above such occurrences and that someone like Arthur was actually ready, just like him, looking to find someone to settle down with, because against his better judgment, against it being far too early to even entertain such commitment, Merlin could _definitely_ see himself settling down with Arthur.

_God he is so fucking hopeless._

Merlin is still berating himself within his cave of warmth when he feels the bed dip, causing him to yelp in surprise.

“Merlin is not a morning person,” Arthur’s warm, far too chipper and teasing for not even 6 AM, voice says from above. “I’ll remember that for future. Or do you require incentives other than breakfast to pull you out of bed.”

“Arthur?” Merlin questions, digging himself out of his cocoon of wallowing in self pity, and sits up, taking in Arthur, bed head still a glorious mess, dressed in black boxer-briefs, holding two plates of food in hand that smell... “Oh God, I think I’m gonna be sick…”

Merlin, naked as the day he was born, scrambles his way further out the covers and off the bed, making a mad dash out the bedroom and into his tiny, adjoining bathroom before retching up whatever had been sitting in his stomach from the night before. Embarrassment is far from his mind at this point due to the one prominent thought looping his head being, _No, no, no, no, this is not happening now._

Stomach in knots, breath labored and eyes leaking at the over exertion of muscles not regularly used in such a way, Merlin is on the verge of crying when he feels a blanket being draped over his shoulders and the warmth of Arthur’s hand through cotton, tracing soothing patterns up and down his spine. Arthur’s kindness and caring make Merlin want to cry even more, because he’s most certain that he’s just about to screw up whatever this could have been between them.

In the end he doesn’t cry, not exactly. Once his stomach settles (for the time being), Arthur helps him up and over to the sink, where Merlin takes a moment to brush his teeth and get his bearings, refusing to meet Arthur’s eyes in the mirror. Arthur leaves the room before he’s finished, of which Merlin isn’t surprised because how romantic is a morning after with one party puking their guts out for no discernible reason than Arthur being a horrible cook (which Merlin highly doubts is true). Merlin _is_ surprised when he emerges from the bathroom and reenters his bedroom only to see Arthur, still clothed only in his boxer-briefs, not in any hurry to leave, but rather fixing up the bedding. 

“Hey,” Merlin mutters, eyes burning with unshed tears, and barely holding it together to keep his lips from quivering, especially with Arthur there being something of a knight in shining armor and taking care of Merlin. “You really don’t have to… I mean, I’d understand if you wanted to leave…”

Ignoring him, Arthur meets Merlin in the doorway, one hand wrapping around the side of his neck, drawing Merlin’s attention. “Now why would I do that?”

Arthur proceeds to pull Merlin along to deposit him in bed, sheet and all, making sure to pull the covers up just so, and perches on its edge, fingers tips rubbing at Merlin’s scalp.

“Why are you doing this?”

It’s the first Merlin’s seen Arthur frown, brow furrowed in clear unhappiness, and Merlin truly can’t understand how someone like Arthur can care this much about someone like Merlin, someone he’s just met and is really still getting to know.

“Well,” Arthur begins, the wrinkles of his forehead smoothing out, even with his mouth still set in a dissatisfied downturn. “I’d like to think if the tables were turned, you’d do the same for me.”

Merlin knows he would. 

“And I could excuse it all to proper upbringing, but _this_ isn’t anything my father saw fit to teach, I can assure you,” Arthur explains, hand pulling back and fussing with the duvet. “If I am being honest here, and I wouldn’t be anything but with you, I don’t take relationships lightly, even in their fledgling stages. I _like_ you Merlin, probably more than is suitably healthy in less than a week’s time, but I want to do this. Is it so unheard of that maybe I want to take care of you?”

It’s those words that have a few of those unshed tears stray out the corners of his eyes as Merlin takes a shuttering breath realizing just how fucked up his life is, or at least is going to be.

++++++

In the days that follow, days that oddly end up being the first he hasn’t seen or even spoken with Arthur since they met, Merlin spends a ridiculous amount of money on pregnancy tests that in his heart knows he doesn’t need, but denial has him buying nonetheless just to prove his heart wrong, wrong, wrong. Apparently denial is a deep, deep, _deep_ river when six tests later, Gwaine finds him sitting on the bathroom floor, back against the claw-foot tub and knees tucked up against his chest, hands grasping at bare feet as he stares at all six tests lined up along the tile floor, each declaring plain as day _positive_. 

“Everything all right there, Mate?” Gwaine enquires, casually leaning against the doorjamb.

“Perhaps it’s a defect,” Merlin mumbles, chin resting against his knee, eyes wide in disbelief (shock if he were being honest with himself).

“All six?”

“Perhaps there’s been a recall…”

“Merlin…”

“It never worked before….”

“Merlin,” Gwaine tries again, pushing off the doorjamb and entering the bathroom proper. “I don’t think…”

“This can’t be happening, Gwaine, it can’t…” Merlin states emphatically, and even he can hear the hysteria in his own voice. 

“I’m afraid it can, my Dear,” Gwaine assures, crouching down in front of Merlin. “This was the point in it all, wasn’t it? What you wanted.”

Merlin meets Gwaine’s steady eyes, and he knows he’s being ridiculous. He knows as Gwaine stated, this has always been the point, what he’s wanted and the reason he started treatments in the first place, but now there’s Arthur, this unexpectedly wonderful and funny and amazing _Prat_ of a man Merlin could see himself making a life with not even an hour after meeting, and there is no way, no way, (no matter how wonderful the man may seem) that Arthur would understand _this_. There’s no way Arthur is ready to _want_ this.

Gwaine moves to take a seat next to Merlin, arm wrapping around his shoulders and Merlin sags against his best friend, releasing a shuttering exhale.

“Explain, because this isn’t just cold feet, or questioning your abilities, which we both know you shouldn’t but…”

“Arthur,” Merlin says, interrupting Gwaine and wiping at his nose, which he realizes is running due to the tears he’s fighting to keep at bay.

“Who?”

Merlin sits up then, fingers pressing into his eyes before shaking his head, attempting to shake off this stupid melancholy that he has no right to be feeling in the first place because if anything, he should be happy, he _is_ happy, but can’t help feeling miserable all the same. Merlin rests his cheek on his knee, meeting Gwaine’s worried eyes and sighs.

“He’s just about the most perfectly imperfect guy I hardly even know but I want to know… I want to know everything about him but I haven’t a chance in blazes now… now that I’m… that I’m pregnant,” Merlin bemoans.

“When’d you meet this bloke?”

Merlin takes a deep breath and sighs. “Last week, Friday. I was kind of down, and Lance mentioned _the site_ , and I thought _what could it hurt_ , and then the site had a match, boy did it have a match, and I just wanted a night of distraction, but then it turned into three _amazing_ days of distraction, four if you count the morning after, but then that day wasn’t so amazing as I woke up sick, and now I’m pregnant, and anything that could have been can’t because I’ve got the absolute worst timing and luck.”

“Wow, okay, a little over dramatic are we?” Gwaine teases, much to Merlin’s chagrin. “Did you breathe once during that sentence?”

“Fuck off.” Gwaine laughs at Merlin’s outbreak.

“Babe, you know I love you, right?”

Merlin nods.

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting a bit here?”

“I don’t know, you tell me, Gwaine,” Merlin challenges, getting up to pace the cramped bathroom. “Let’s say I just met you a week ago, we’ve slept together once and the morning after I wake up sick as a dog, and while you’re amazing and just… fuck… Prince Charming, do you really think me coming to you after avoiding you the last couple days that you’d be open to the idea of continuing to date a guy who happens to, surprise-surprise, be pregnant?”

“Well, I’d like to think me a man with an open mind…”

Merlin laughs out loud. “Come on, Gwaine. Aren’t you the one who turned up here, after Elena told you she was pregnant, freaked out because _How did the world think I was capable of being a dad?_ And that was coming from a man planning on being a _Dad_. You were crying, Gwaine. Do you really think Arthur is ready to play _Daddy_ with a guy he doesn’t even know?”

“Well, I don’t really know this _Arthur_ ….”

“Gwaine!”

“Alright, alright, you got a point,” Gwaine agrees, standing and stopping Merlin’s pacing by grabbing his shoulders. “ _But_ … If this guy is _half_ as amazing as you claim he is, which I will be the judge if I ever get to meet this _Arthur_ bloke, but maybe he would.”

“Out of some sense of chivalry? No thank you,” Merlin says. “I don’t need his or anybody’s pity.”

Merlin pushes his way past Gwaine and out the bathroom. 

“Merlin, don’t be like that,” Gwaine calls after him, following Merlin into his bedroom.

“What am I going to do, Gwaine?” Merlin collapses onto his bed, head dropping into his hands. 

“Well, I think the first thing you’re going to do is contact your doctor and set up an appointment, if you haven’t already, and then,” Gwaine squats in front of him, tapping his leg for attention, not continuing until Merlin meets his gaze. “And then you are going to take one day at a time, just like you told me. One day at a time.”

++++++

In the days following his minor freak-out (completely ignoring Gwaine’s correction of terminology), Merlin finds he isn’t too proud of himself in respect to the way he handles the situation. While there are many different ways he could have handled things between him and Arthur, the straightforward, honest _adult_ course just wasn’t the action he chose to follow. In hindsight, it’s stupid, really. It’s not as if they’ve known each other all that long, or have invested much in what couldn’t even really be called a _relationship_ at that given moment, but Arthur and what they had shared was something Merlin finds he isn’t really prepared to give up just yet, even knowing in the end walking away is exactly what he will have to do. Merlin, for at least a few days, wants to be selfish. So for now, until he can figure out exactly how to explain his _delicate condition_ to Arthur, Merlin chooses the avoidance route, ignoring calls and texts and not returning voicemails, no matter how concerned and frustrated Arthur sounds in the messages Merlin has listed to multiple times over, and no matter how many times Gwaine reminds Merlin of how much an idiot he is being.

Sometimes even Gwaine can’t get through to Merlin when he’s being stubborn.

The bells above the door jingle as Merlin enters Perk Me Up. He’s just come from his first prenatal appointment, where his condition was formally confirmed, and further follow-up appointments scheduled, and all he wants, craves really because he’s been avoiding this place five days now due to his lack of appetite that is all of the sudden returned (at least for now and he isn’t about to turn away sweets while his body allows him to eat and keep them down) is a chocolate chip scone… and maybe a monster cupcake of the day (their specialty)… and a hot chocolate, but then his eyes set on the coconut-almond-chocolate cheesecake heaven leaving Merlin to wonder if this is how his entire pregnancy is going to go, and if so he is sure to be a beached whale by the time all is said and done.

“Hey, Merlin, what can I get you?” Elyan asks, greeting Merlin with his ever present and cheery smile while wiping hands on his smock.

“One of everything?” 

They share a laugh as Merlin approaches, perusing the day’s selection (mouth watering), indecisive as always, which causes Elyan to chuckle again.

“I should think about offering a sample plate. Might help in the long run,” the shop owner teases, apparently far too familiar with Merlin’s sweet tooth and indecisive nature.

“I don’t think there’s a plate big enough to house all the samples I’d want,” Merlin returns back, making his final selections. “I’ll have the scone… and the coconut-almond cheesecake with a cup of hot chocolate.”

Elyan grins and rings Merlin up, accepting payment and quickly turning to gather his order and begin his drink. “I don’t know where you put it all, Merlin.”

Merlin smiles and laughs it off, taking his plated treats and locating an empty table at the back of the coffeehouse to occupy, aiming for out of sight, out of mind. His lack of appetite isn’t the only thing that’s been keeping Merlin away from his favorite coffee place. Merlin thanks Elyan when his drink is delivered and begins a systematic devouring of the tasty treats before him. Merlin is so focused on his food he doesn’t even register the next patron entering Perk Me Up, nor acknowledges that person’s approach until the other patron takes a seat across from Merlin with a plate containing a monster cupcake (which just so happens to be Merlin’s favorite of their monster cupcakes which he refers to as Chocolate Peanut Butter Bliss). His eyes nearly bug out when they meet the cool, observant, blue ones sizing him up, and just like that, Merlin thinks he’s going to be sick that has nothing to do with the life growing inside him.

“So here’s the thing,” Arthur begins, taking a sip of coffee. “I met this really, _really_ strange and oddly wonderful guy the other day. Someone who isn’t like anyone I’ve ever met or even dated before, a complete opposite actually, what with the lack of any sort of social ladder climbing aspirations, and maybe a little more questionable fashion sense and not to mention an adorable set of abnormally prominent ears, and I thought maybe, _maybe_ he kind of felt something… akin about me… perhaps minus the ears, and the fashion sense, but I haven’t been able to get a hold of him since… well, since _you know_ ,” Arthur trails off, leaving the blanks Merlin is more than capable of filling. “And, if I am being honest here, I normally would have given up after the first day of ignored calls, but you… you… there’s just something about you, _Merlin_ , that I think is worth the extra effort, and I hope… I was hoping...”

“Arthur…” Merlin speaks barely above a whisper, as he deflates back in his chair feeling guilty over the self-doubt he’s caused this usually over confident businessman. 

“Ah, I see you _do_ remember my name or me so to speak,” Arthur comments, a tip of his head towards Merlin, making a point. “So it isn’t you’ve suddenly come down with a case of amnesia…”

“Arthur, honestly, I’m sorry…” 

“Sorry, what? Sorry but you got what you wanted, damn the consequences, just like everyone else? Sorry, I’m just not that into you? Sorry, you kind of freaked me out the other morning and I think it would be best if we didn’t see each other anymore? Because if any of those are the case, why does it sound more like you’re truly sorry which is a contradiction to the way you’ve been acting… the way you’ve been ignoring me is really confusing here,” Arthur rambles, the hurt clear in his frustrated words no matter how hard Arthur is trying to hide it. “If you want me to leave you alone, I will, but at least tell me to my face you’d rather leave our last night together as just that, our last night, and I will forget… I will forget everything….”

Merlin doesn’t really know where to begin or how to explain any of it, if he’s really ready to explain. How can he be looking at two possible futures and it feel like he can’t have them both but must choose one over the other? How does he make that choice, that really isn’t something he has a choice over given he’s already heading down the road of fatherhood with his _happily ever after_ storybook ending only a fading glimpse in his rear view of life? And in true Merlin fashion he ends up blurting out the first thing that doesn’t so much come to mind, but it’s what comes out without much thought nonetheless. “I’m pregnant.”

There’s a clatter behind the shop counter, Merlin barely catching Elyan’s quick duck behind the front case to pick up whatever’s been dropped due to his obvious eavesdropping. When Merlin turns back and meets Arthur’s eyes, they are wide and a bit shocked, and maybe a little distrusting (correction, a lot distrusting) and accusing.

“It’s not…”

“Pregnant.”

“Yes?”

“Is that a question?”

“No?”

“Damnit, Merlin,” Arthur shouts, fist hitting the table and jostling their drinks. “This is not a game.”

“I know… I know that, I’m sorry…”

“And stop apologizing,” Arthur continues, taking a steadying breath before adding. “And just, explain… please. It’s been five days, I highly doubt I’m the bastard responsible.”

Merlin flinches at Arthur’s choice of word but quickly shakes his head, eyes downcast now and resolutely focused on the grains of the wood tabletop, a finger tracing the natural swirls as he gathers his thoughts, his words, his feelings. While he may harbor no hope for what could have been them, Merlin can’t seem to give up that easily either. 

“I _am_ pregnant,” he quietly admits again, meeting Arthur’s contemplative gaze. “But it’s not what you think. There is no other _Dad_ … I mean, obviously there has to be but there isn’t like a real _person_ …. I mean, I had a procedure… artificial insemination… so it’s not like there’s a person with a name… just a chart and number… stats…”

Merlin pauses, a trembling hand wiping at his hot brow as he takes a breath before continuing.

“You weren’t supposed to be anything more than a distraction,” Merlin admits, looking back up at Arthur. “I didn’t even know who you really were, before our blind date. That first meeting, that was all it was supposed to be. I was a bit down as I assumed the procedure didn’t take… like it hadn’t all the other times… and I’d been signed up on the site for years due to meddling friends, one of those friends suggesting I check the site out again, and then there you were, and I thought _what did I have to lose, really?_ And then…”

Merlin trails off, throat tightening at the unreadable look in Arthur’s eyes. He can’t tell what Arthur is thinking in that moment, whether it’s good or bad, accepting of the truth at hand or questioning the validity of Merlin’s words. Merlin wouldn’t blame the guy if he thought Merlin was trying to trap him in a situation he never wanted in the first place.

“And then what, Merlin,” Arthur prods, voice quiet and coaxing in a gentle, unexpected way, but there is still no give in the eyes watching him.

“And then _you_ ,” Merlin confesses, leaning back in his chair again. “You weren’t part of the plan. You walked in all confident and handsome, like you owned the place, and I thought for sure after one evening with me you’d walk out that bar and we’d never see each other again, but then you had to go and be all charming and down to earth and so determined. I didn’t stand a chance.”

Merlin catches Arthur’s tiny smirk at his admittance, and can’t stop the small return smile.

“I didn’t stand a chance either,” Arthur quietly admits himself, the slight pinking of his cheeks even more endearing to Merlin. 

“Yeah?”

The corner of Arthur’s mouth quirks up, and he gestures with a tilt of his head conceding the truth.

Merlin takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. “Under normal circumstances, this wouldn’t be a problem. Under normal circumstances… God, you’d be sick of me by now…”

Arthur snorts. “I highly doubt that.”

“It’s true, you would, but this,” Merlin pauses, waving his hands above his stomach. “I don’t expect _anything_ of you. You didn’t signed up for this, and we barely know each other. It’s only logical that we cut our losses now before it’s too late… before it’s…”

“Before it’s what?” Arthur prods further when Merlin’s words trail off.

Merlin meets Arthur’s eyes and feels the downward pull at the corners of his mouth, because seriously, he’s so far gone for this man he barely knows, or at least can see losing himself easily with Arthur that if he doesn’t cut ties now, he may never want to. He may never know how.

“Before it’s too hard,” Merlin whispers, voice cracking on the last word, eyes dropping to the remaining morsels of treats, appetite long gone, and an incredible feeling of loneliness quickly tightening around his chest. 

When he does look back up, Arthur nods, frowns, and nods again before tilting his head to the side and smirking at Merlin again, asking, “And what if it _is_ too late?”

“Excuse me?”

“Here’s what I know: I like you, Merlin. I think I made that abundantly clear when I held your hair while you puked your guts up in the toilet.”

“You didn’t hold my hair…”

“It’s an exaggeration, _Mer_ lin, work with me here. My life… from what my sister constantly reminds me… isn’t a life. I work, and I work some more, and then I get a few hours sleep at night, and repeat next day. Relationships… I’ve had my fair share of partners… mostly out of convenience, and mostly with women, and a few men, who were looking to gain what the Pendragon name could afford to give. And then I met you,” Arthur pauses then, running a hand through his perfect, golden hair before leaning back in his own seat, looking Merlin over as if gathering thoughts before continuing. “Truth? You weren’t supposed to be anything more than a one night stand, a means of getting my sister off my back for a little while, but that night at the pub… That night there was just something about you, something I still can’t put into words, but I knew I wouldn’t be satisfied with just an evening of drinks. You’re a hard man to forget, Merlin.”

Merlin feels his cheeks flush, looking down quickly in hopes of hiding them, but Arthur’s warm chuckle clues Merlin in to the lack of success. 

“Hey,” Arthur murmurs, leaning forward and reaching across the table to take hold of one of Merlin’s hands, waiting for Merlin to meet his eyes before continuing. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you. I know what you’re going through, as brave as it is, is probably the scariest thing in the world, and even knowing that, I can’t begin to understand all the same. And maybe this isn’t the right time, probably the worst timing really, but I’d like to keep seeing you, Merlin. In the last week, you’ve been the only thing I’ve looked forward to and I’d like to keep on getting to know you, if you are willing… if you want…”

Merlin squeezes Arthur’s hand, not trusting his own voice, and nods, ignoring his watery eyes and tight throat and racing heart. Merlin ignores his brain trying to override his heart, telling him this is the worst decision he’s ever made, that there is no hope in continuing seeing Arthur, or possibly starting a relationship with a man who has no strings to the baby growing inside. Arthur could potentially walk at any time, losing nothing but maybe time he apparently has little of, yet even knowing that, _expecting it_ really, Merlin still chooses to throw caution to the wind and take a chance on this man, damn the consequences. There is just something about Arthur too that Merlin can see, something authentic and trusting, something honest and pure in Arthur’s tone expressing more than his words actually say that Merlin feels is worth chancing the possible heartbreak. 

They just need to take things one day at a time.


End file.
